An Incandescent Melody
by DarknessAngel013
Summary: UPDATED! CHAPTER TWO EDITED! CH. 3 UP! The story of one Irish witch named Terrwyn and one stuffed peacock named Draco. Draco and OC. Rating may change.
1. Introduction

An Incandescent Melody

The balcony was dusted with the last remaining leaves of the sturdy oak to its left and the girl did almost everything in her power to avoid stepping on the leftovers of the various birds' nests that had littered the tree like towers on a castle front. She felt that it would almost be disrespectful to tread upon the remains of such wonderful works of art, especially since the homeowners were long gone or dead. The yellow leaves beneath her feet crunched as she made her way to the railing.

Her ebony curls were loose and free in the wind, brushing against her back like the hands of a lover and making her shiver involuntarily. There was something about today that had her on edge. Maybe it was because it would be her last day in her birth home. Maybe it was because she was moving away to what seemed like a distant land. It wasn't that far, but it still felt like it to her.

Her brother had no preference, whether they moved or if they didn't. He was a solitary creature, anyway, and had very little attachment to anyone. That is, except, his beloved little sister, Terrwyn. Her teal gaze softened at the thought. Salem loved her more than the air he breathed, it seemed. And he was a passionate creature—impulsive and protective—though he rarely had the motive to extort himself in such ways.

"Teri," a voice behind her whispered, breaking her from the trance-like reminiscing she had enveloped herself in. She peered over her shoulder and was met with the cool gaze of her brother. His black hair and startling grey/blue eyes made him a terrifying sight to those who did not know him. But Terrwyn knew him—most likely, more than he knew himself.

"Salem," she replied, calmly, turning to face him. Her flowing white skirt brushed her ankles, causing her to twitch. Salem smiled, fondly.

"You might want to watch your twitching in England, darling sister. They may think you're some first rate nutcase." He crossed his arms over his broad chest. They were twins, yes, but their looks varied in very obvious ways. One, she was female. Two, she was thin and hourglass, whereas he was wide-shouldered and blocky. Three, she had inherited her mother's curly tresses, while he had inherited their father's waves. But other than that, they looked very much alike. They both shared the pale, freckled complexion of their father, and the nearly silver eyes of their mother.

"Do _you_ think I'm a nutcase, darling elder brother?" she asked, fully expecting the answer. His eyes turned piercing and he shook his head.

"Of course not; you are the most brilliant witch I know, Teri. And I also know that your twitches are the product of your high sensitivity, due to a trauma in your youth—falling out of a tree, for example. And I know that your twitches are the reason you've never had a boyfriend because you're afraid that their touch will send your senses overboard." He shrugged. "And, as a final fact, I know that you never listen to me when I tell you that all you have to do is find a patient, gentle guy, and you have to let your senses relax around. He has to make your feel comfortable."

Teri rolled her eyes. "Salem, you are annoying as hell, you know that? And, furthermore, I fully believe that I was destined to be single forever."

Salem rolled his eyes in response. "You can't be single forever. Your inheritance depends on you marrying a man of the correct stature and blood."

She turned away. "You mean a pureblood. And, preferably, a Death Eater," she snarled, putting her fisted hands on her hips.

He trudged over to her, squashing at least 20 birds' nests that had the pleasure of being in his way. She cringed as he grabbed her shoulder, her muscles twitching intolerably. She squirmed in his grasp. "Why does it matter so much? It's the path you're destined for. You're going to be in Slytherin, as am I. That's unavoidable. And the only guys in Slytherin house are the sons of pureblood Death Eaters! That's unavoidable as well."

Teri whipped around, nearly spitting fire. She wrenched herself out of Salem's grip and stared at him. "I don't want that life. It's surrounded by death. I may be cunning, and deceitful, sly, and even pureblooded, but I am _not_ a murderer. And I will _not_ consent to being a murderer's trophy wife!"

Salem scoffed. "And what if you love him?"

"Then I will have my heart broken. Because a Death Eater never cares for anyone but their master, Salem—look at Mother and Father! They haven't slept in the same bed since we were little kids!" She stomped her foot angrily. "I will not have my love be made into a mockery!"

Salem smirked. "Then you'll just have to make sure the guy you marry _doesn't_ become a Death Eater." Teri's eyes widened.

"Who, though?"

Salem shrugged. "Anyone; love can do strange things to people. And, you have two years to do it, so if it doesn't work with the first guy, obliviate him and try again."

Teri rolled her eyes once again. "You're so cruel, Salem. There are many other ways that boys get over mushy breakups—aka get another girlfriend; or two. It's not that hard."

Salem prodded her arm. "Hey! Are you insinuating that all males are perverted polygamists, who only care about a quick shag and not the deterioration of our hearts?"

She nodded. "Exactly," she said, matter-of-factly.

Suddenly, he smirked. "You'd be about right then." He shrugged. "But then again, there are those guys that only care about shags until they fall in love. Then they're helpless to their beloved's every whim."

Teri smiled. "That'll be helpful."

"Surely."

It was overly crowded as the Eldergoth limousine pulled into King's Cross Station. The populace was mostly groups of family members, with older children—the youngest being between 10 or 11. And this was how Terrwyn knew she had found the right place. She tapped her father's shoulder, who sat next to her. His head swiveled, his black hair sashaying around his face. He quirked an eyebrow, urging her to make her comment—she did: "Father, this is the place. I know for sure now."

"How, my dear?" he asked, fake curiosity coating his dark voice.

"Look at all the children. The youngest are at the ripe age of beginning Hogwarts. There are only a few families that have younger children, at least younger children only, and you can tell by their state of dress that they're muggles." Her father nodded and then tapped the window to the front of the limousine. The driver put it down and spoke.  
"Yes, sir?" he asked, his voice raspy and refined.

"This is the place, Martin. Park somewhere close—I won't have my children hauling their luggage long distances like some breed of cattle," he replied, straightening his cloak clasp around his neck.

Terrwyn then turned to her mother. Her mother was dressed in deep green tones with a tan cloak draped over her shoulders. Terrwyn couldn't help but be proud that her mother could look so regal, even when she was so unhappy all the time.

Her mother's dark auburn curls cascaded to her waist and her huge amount of freckles only increased the evidence that the Eldergoth family was originally from Ireland. Terrwyn quietly asked her: "Do you know of any boys I might like here, Mother?"

Her mother's eyes widened. "Boys? I thought you weren't interested, darling?"

"I am now. I don't fancy not having my inheritance and school's as good as any place to find a suitable husband—someone to love…or at least tolerate." Her eyes were imploring. "Please, Mother—surely you've heard some gossip of children from your English acquaintances."

Her mother smiled. "Well, as a matter of fact, one of my dear friends has a son, your age, and currently single. And the gossip is that he's terribly handsome and possesses a gentlemanly nature, despite his father's horrible influence."

Terrwyn sighed. "A name, Mother?"

Her mother replied, her smile widening: "Draco Malfoy."

Teri nodded. "Malfoy—that'll be easy to remember—I don't think many people are named that in England. Not to mention, Draco's uncommon as well."

"His family has a bit of Italian influence," her mother supplied.

"Ah, that must be it," Teri breathed, sarcasm lacing her voice. "I meant that none of the English debutantes have that name, meaning he has no sisters."

"On the contrary," her mother chided. "He does have a sister. She's just not the debutante type. She's a year below you. Her name's Lucia—though recently she's gone by Luci, if what Narcissa told me is correct."

Teri leaned back in her seat, stretching very cat-like. "Who's this Narcissa you seem to like so much?" Teri questioned, pulling a red pear out of the mini cooler and biting into it delicately. "It sounds like you two are good friends."

"We are, Terrwyn. We have been since we were young. Her family used to vacation in Ireland every summer for four months. During that time, my mother let the three girls—Bella, Cissa and Andy—stay with us."

"Cissa? Andy? Those don't sound like very regal names. Were they purebloods?"

"Yes; both of their parents were Death Eaters as well. And their actual names were Bellatrix, Narcissa and Andromeda—three sisters that varied exponentially from one another."

Terrwyn glanced out the window and noticed the long line waiting to get into the parking. She crossed her legs and sighed. "Tell me about them, Mother."

"It's a long story, my darling."

"We have time."

Her mother nodded her head. "Well, Bellatrix was the darkest of the three. She had an olive complexion and thick black hair that flipped everywhere—and it matched her personality. She was vicious, terrorizing everything and everyone she could find; especially animals. She's Voldemort's right hand now."

She twiddled her fingers nervously. "Narcissa was the fairest of the three. She was pale and had thin blonde hair that was always kept in a coif on her head—she never liked getting it dirty. She was very straightforward and loved to take charge, but she never was very friendly to anyone but her friends. She was aloof to almost everyone and considered herself the best, though I think she once said that I tied with her."

She laughed lightly and began to braid a strand of her hair. "Then there was Andromeda. She was the middle child. She had thin dark hair and an average complexion and she always had it cut around her face—though she never resembled a boy. She was the nicest of the three and loved animals and people. She'd hug people on a whim and every day my mother would find a new creature lounging in Andromeda's suite. Once she had a niffler locked up in her closet. It nearly gave my mother a heart attack." Her expression softened. "Sadly, Andromeda was disowned because she married a muggle named Ted Tonks. They have a daughter now as well who's probably about 20 or so. Her name's Nymphadora."

Teri nodded. "Andromeda sounds like the best of the lot."

Her mother shook her head. "Narcissa was always my favorite. But, then again, maybe it was because I shared a room with her and we were about the same age."

"Why did you two share a room?"

Her mother laughed. "Because Cissa was afraid of the dark—so she never slept alone. When she was at her home, she always had her house elves sleep in her room. It bothered her mother, but it kept Cissa quiet."

Teri laughed. "Wow." Suddenly, the limousine jerked to a stop, causing both Salem and her father to curse wildly.

"Who in the bloody hell runs out in front of a car like that?" her father growled, prying open the door and sticking his head out. "What in the blazes are you doing, boy?"

The boy turned and Terrwyn was met with the sight of the most beautiful silver eyes she'd ever seen. She was transfixed. To her right, her mother let out a wail. "That's him! Oh, Vincent, don't kill him!"

Her father, Vincent, whipped around and stared at his wife. "He's who, Bronwyn? I don't recognize him at all!"

Terrwyn was still watching the boy—emotions crisscrossed his face as he tried to decide if he should stay or flee. She gave him a sympathetic look, eyeing her father out of the corner of her eye and nodded. His eyes widened but he nodded just the same.

Her mother wailed again. "That's Narcissa's son!"

The boy's face morphed into a smirk as he approached the car. And Terrwyn nearly fainted dead away as he stood over her father, still smirking. "May I help you? Did I offend you in any way?"

Vincent scowled. "You almost dented by hood, you Neanderthal." He pulled out his wand and slipped it into the front of his duster. "Where are your parents? It's very unlike Narcissa to leave one of her children unattended. Especially with your father in prison."

The boy, Draco, shrugged. "She's tending to Luci. She said I could go along and wait for her at the station." Terrwyn watched the lie drift through his eyes. She had a good perception of that. She crossed her arms.

"He's lying, Father."

Vincent gave his daughter an approving smile. "Thank you, my dear." He stared at the boy in front of him as Salem got out of the car and faced the blonde teen. "My daughter thinks you're lying, boy. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Draco gulped as Salem edged closer. "Okay, I'm lying. Mother's about a mile that way and she's being her clingy self. I had to get away. Luci covered my escape, saying that she'd forgotten something in the car."

Salem scowled. "Lying bunch of ingrates," he muttered.

Bronwyn's eyes widened. "Salem Anthony! Behave yourself!" she screeched, shaking her head. Salem winced.

"Sorry, Mother, but I am right."

By this time, Terrwyn was out of the car as well, carefully sizing up the boy before her. He was blonde, with a pale complexion, and stood about six feet tall, give or take an inch, against her 5'10". His pointed chin was raised in superiority, though his posture spoke of a cowardice that branched from loneliness. He was afraid of love and comfort, just as she was denied it. Her heart clenched painfully. "Good day, boy," she said, pleasantly. "I'm sorry if my family offended you."

His smirk left his face as he studied her. "Do I know you?" he pressured, raising an eyebrow. "Because I don't believe I do. I wouldn't forget someone like you."

Her eyes danced in anger. "What is that supposed to mean, you puffed up peacock?" she spat, "Are you insinuating, before even meeting me, that I'm some freak."

Draco rolled his eyes. "No, but if I was, you only would have proved my point. I actually was giving you a compliment, you stubborn cow." He crossed him arms, haughtily. "But maybe I should have stopped myself."

Teri scoffed. "It didn't sound like a compliment. You must learn to be more direct with your compliment, or else someone decidedly more dangerous than I could take offense." She lifted her chin.

"I only have to be direct with the Irish. They're too stubborn and dimwitted to understand poetic freedom." He said, smirking.

She quickly drew her wand, concealing it in her jacket sleeve and pointed it at his throat. "I know more spells than a Hogwarts graduate. It would serve you well to never insult me, my family, or my heritage ever again. Do you understand?"

He gulped. "Perfectly."

She smirked, watching the color drain from the already pale boy's face. "I'm glad we've come to an understanding."

Okay, so this is my first non Draco/Hermione fanfiction ever. It's about the lives of Draco and a character that I created for my own purposes so I do own her and her family. So ha! You can't use them! Ha ha….so yea R & R please.


	2. Mother, May I?

Chapter 2 : Mother, May I?

Terrwyn watched the students mull about the train with limited excitement. The station surrounding the express was far too crowded for her taste and she could already feel her insides churning and her pale skin was wet with perspiration. "There are too many people, Salem. I don't know if I can stand this," she admitted, to her shockingly well-composed twin.

"Teri, just keep calm. Look, Mother's coming back."

Terrwyn scowled. "Yeah, that's _real _helpful, Salem. She's bringing that pure-blooded nuisance and his bloody sister with her. And look at her, all chummy with _their _mother. And Father! He's laughing!"

"Mother and Father are allowed to have friends."

"Of course, Salem," she agreed, "but I don't have to like it. And they don't have to drag us into it. Just because Narcissa Malfoy and Bronwyn Eldergoth are all chummy doesn't mean that Draco Malfoy and Terrwyn Eldergoth have to go off and start a club."

Salem chuckled. "I see your point. But I still think you're overreacting."

"Oh, _please_," she growled, crossing her arms. "Hardly."

By that time, the group was only a few steps away. Bronwyn motioned for her daughter to move towards them. "Terrwyn, this is Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's Mother. Narcissa, dear, this is my daughter, Terrwyn."

Narcissa smiled—it looked fake. "Pleasure, dear. And I see you've already met my son, Draco; did you two hit it off?"

Terrwyn gritted her teeth and prepared for a lie. "Yes, Ma'am, we were really chummy. I think we'll end up bring close friends." Her eyes slid to where Draco stood, bouncing from one leg to the other, nervously.

"Good, good," the Mother Malfoy murmured. Then, from behind her, she pulled out a uniquely dressed girl of about 16. "This," she began, "is my daughter, Lucia." She cleared her throat primly. "As you can see, she's very _unique._"

The girl, Lucia, rolled her eyes and pulled out of her mother's grasp. "I'm chic, Mother—punk is chic now, especially in America."

Narcissa pursed her lips. "Those Americans are filthy animals—almost all Mudbloods or Squibs, if they're anything but normal humans. It's disgusting."

Lucia rolled her eyes again and stepped towards Terrwyn. "The name's Luci. You look kinda cool. What's your name?" She had a wad of emerald green Bubba Buggles' Big Bubble Chewing Gum in her mouth and she popped a piece on her teeth, loudly. It made her Mother cringe.

Terrwyn stifled her giggle. "My name is Terrwyn Eldergoth. It's a pleasure to meet you, Luci." Then, in an undertone, as she reached to shake Luci's hand, she added. "Call me Teri; oh, and I _really _like your outfit."

Luci smiled as Terrwyn pulled away. "I think we're going to be best friends, you and I." She turned to her Mother. "I like her, Mom. I think she may be a step towards a bright new future for me."

Narcissa sighed darkly. "Maybe she can teach you how to dress."

Luci refrained from her normal commentary. "Maybe she can."

Narcissa's eyes widened and her hand moved to her heart. Vincent Eldergoth could barely hold in his chuckle at the sight. Bronwyn, on the other hand, looked extremely pleased that Terrwyn had made such a good impression on the Malfoys. It was then that she motioned for Salem to step forward. "Narcissa, this is my son, Salem. He didn't have the pleasure of really conversing with Draco this morning, so I doubt your son said anything about him."

Narcissa nodded once. "It's a pleasure, Salem."

"Likewise, Mrs. Malfoy. I am sure that, this year, I will make an effort to get to know your son and daughter better. I have to admit, though I began going to Hogwarts last year, I never really spoke to either of them. I assure you, it was a folly of mine. I promise to be a less forgetful Slytherin this year."

Narcissa smiled—this time, for real. She turned to Bronwyn. "What a pleasant boy, Bronwyn. I don't know how you do it. Both of your children are so well behaved. It's extraordinary."

Bronwyn smiled in return. "We try our best, Narcissa, dear." Then, the two women excused themselves, intending to catch up on what they'd missed in each others' lives. Vincent approached the teens.

"Salem, Draco, Luci—I expect the three of you to take care of Terrwyn; it's her first time. I want you to give her the grand tour. And I want all of you—even those of you who I did not raise—to be on your best behavior. You represent the future of the Magical Community. Remember your loyalty and make us proud."

As he turned and walked away, Terrwyn watched Draco cringe. Terrwyn felt a pang of sympathy. Both of them knew what loyalties her father had been talking about—loyalties to Voldemort. And she also knew, even though she had only spoke to him once, that both her and Draco were hiding dark secrets from their friends and family. So, despite her better judgment, Terrwyn walked towards Draco and started a conversation. "I think we started off on the wrong foot, Malfoy."

His eyes widened. "Yes, I believe we did."

She cleared her throat, smirking. "My name is Teri."

He matched her smirk, extending his hand. "My name is Draco."

She took his hand and leaned in towards his ear, as if to hug him. "I hate Voldemort; but, I am bound to him—against my will."

His eyes widened as she pulled back. "Me too."

* * *

It was moments like these, when Terrwyn was wrapped up in sticky social situations, that a game from her childhood came to mind. Dancing around tough topics, smiling through snide remarks, lying through her teeth—generally, being sweet all the time—it all felt like a long and drawn out game of 'Mother, May I?'

The game was simple. In order to win, you had to ask the 'Mother' or 'Father' to move forward. For example, "Mother, may I come forward 10 steps?" Usually, with a request that big, the parent would decline. For example, "No, but if you hop on one foot, you can come forward five." The point of the game, was to learn that you often had to jump through strange hoops to get where you wanted to go.

Sitting in a coach with her brother, the Malfoys and a group of Slytherins she did not know and mostly didn't like, qualified as one of those hoops. While Draco chatted animatedly with two of the boys—Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini, if she remembered correctly—she quickly sized up his harem of serpentine women.

Pansy Parkinson was pug-faced, arrogant, and big-boned—she was also flat-chested, of average intelligence, and short. Millicent Bulstrode was overweight, ugly, big-breasted, obedient, tall—while, at the same time, ridiculously intelligent. Daphne Greengrass was lithe, beautiful, graceful, of medium height, germaphobic, and incredibly stupid. They were tight triangle that encompassed every quality a girl wanted and every quality a girl didn't want. The confident one was arrogant and average; the intelligent one was ugly; the beautiful one was stupid.

In Terrwyn's opinion, none of them were prime examples of Slytherin prowess; and none of them came close to Draco's idea of a woman—or, at least, she assumed they didn't. However, Pansy Parkinson believed herself to be the future Mrs. Draco Malfoy and made no qualms about following Draco around and trying to cement this fact. From what Terrwyn could tell, he had thus far rejected these advances—even though he had, once, taken her to a dance during one of their previous years at Hogwarts.

Daphne looked more like Draco's cousin than his girlfriend and, from what Terrwyn could tell, looked more interested in a boy named Neville Longbottom than in Draco. Pansy yelled at her frequently for this fact. Millicent wasn't really interested in Draco or any other man. She followed Pansy around everywhere, due to a need to be obedient and and out of fear, and was, Terrwyn assumed, the creator of all of Pansy's plans of "Draco Domination."

Because of all this assumption, Terrwyn had to be careful about what she said when talking to these girls. One wrong move, and she was forever shunned in Slytherin House—though she was sure, Luci wouldn't abandon her. She didn't look like the kind of girl that hung out with these idiots, anyway.

"So, Pansy, what area of England are you from?"

Pansy twirled a piece of her pixie-cut onyx hair around her middle finger. "The rich, pure-blooded area," she countered, a smirk forming on her lips.

"My Father owns almost a fifth of Ireland's land mass," Terrwyn bragged, utterly uncomfortable with flaunting her prosperity to these bitches. "He also just bought a magnanimous Manor on the Eastern Coast of England."

Her eyes glittered. "That's nice." She wasn't paying attention . She was concentrated on the dark, comforting drawl of Draco's voice. Terrwyn suppressed a scowl and moved onto another one of the girls.

"Daphne, how old are you?"

"18," she answered.

"And you're only a Sixth year?"

"I've failed my OWLS three times—once in my Fifth year and twice during my Sixth year. When you fail them, you don't have to retake Fifth year. But you have to retake Sixth year if you fail them then. I've retaken Sixth year twice. So I'm eighteen instead of sixteen." She looked extremely confused. Her gaze slid to Millicent. "Is that right, Milly? Did I explain it right?"

Millicent nodded, her boorish face washed out with the nervousness of meeting a new person. Terrwyn felt bad for her. "It's Millicent, right?"

She nodded. "Yes; and you're Terrwyn."

Terrwyn nodded. "You know, Millicent, I love your brooch." It was a coiling dragon around a sprig of Magnolia. It was stunning.

A smile crept onto her face and Terrwyn sucked in a breath. That one little curve of her lips had changed Terrwyn's whole opinion of the girl. She wasn't boorish—she was just unkempt. If someone had only cared a little about her health and her happiness, Millicent would be almost as pretty as Daphne. Alas, she had succumbed to the comforting effects of food and laziness. "My Mother brought it home for me from Japan...before she died. It's the only pretty thing I have." She looked out the window.

"I live with my grandparents and they don't like me...not at all. They think my Father was stupid for marrying a lower-class pure-blood. But they took me in...mostly because they didn't want someone with the name Bulstrode walking around penniless. They buy the plainest clothes, but always the most expensive and they're emotionally empty. They love my half-brother—he was from my father's first marriage. They love Trevor. But they hate me. So I'm never pretty."

Daphne's attention had flitted away. Millicent knew that. That's why she was talking. Terrwyn felt pity choke at her heart. "If you want, Millicent, I can take you shopping one of these weekends. My mother's coming every third weekend to take me shopping; it's Mother/daughter bonding time, she says. But I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you came along."

Millicent shook her head. "My grandparents refused to sign the form that would let me leave Hogwarts grounds."

Terrwyn bit her lip. "How about this—the next time I go shopping, I'll buy a whole new wardrobe for you—makeup, shoes, the works—and it'll be my gift to you, for being so nice to me. How does that sound?"

"My grandparents would be angry at me for taking charity."

"It's a gift; not charity. And if you don't want them to know about it, don't tell them. When you go home for the summer holidays, hide your pretty clothes in your closet—wear them when they're not around. It'll be our little secret."

Millicent's eyes swan with tears. "All right...I guess that would be..." she bit her lip, "that would be nice. Thank you."

Terrwyn patted the bigger girl's knee companionably. "You're welcome." She really like Millicent. Which was really odd. But, just as she was about to restart conversation with her new friend, Pansy's voice cut through the air.

"Oh, Draco! Come sit next to me! I can't stand to watch you from way over here. It's just not natural! Couples sit together on train rides." She pouted. "You're making me awfully sad, Drakie-poo."

Terrwyn watched Draco flinch and turn from his conversation with Theo and Blaise. She hid her snicker beneath a controlled cough. Millicent rolled her eyes in exasperation. And Daphne looked on stupidly, unsure of why everyone else thought it was so funny.

Then, all of a sudden, Draco stood, slunk towards the gaggle of girls, his sister following behind him, laughing at him, and his buddies sliding into the bench across from the girls—next to the lightly snoring Salem—and Draco sat down...right next to Terrwyn. "Pansy, we're not a couple."

"I know the two of you aren't, Draco. I'm not the stupid one. That would be Daphne's position in the group."

Draco scowled. "I meant that _you _and _I _aren't a couple, Pansy. Terrwyn has nothing to do with it. I sat over here to get my point across. I'd rather date Terrwyn, who I barely know, than to even think about dating you. I took you to one dance. Get over it. I've taken Daphne to two of them. And yet there she sits, currently not being clingy and annoying."

Pansy wasn't ready to stop. "We're destined to be married."

"No, we're not. I'm free to marry who I choose."

She frowned. "Why are you being so mean?"

He leaned forward, his face reddening with anger. "Why are you being so _stupid_? I won't date you, I don't like you and I sure as hell _won't MARRY you_!" Everyone in the room cringed—except for Pansy. She looked like someone had kicked her puppy.

"You're so...you're so..._MEAN!_" she wailed, ripping open the compartment door, and disappearing from view. Daphne followed behind her obediently, but Millicent stayed behind, looking at Terrwyn with questions in her eyes.

"Aren't you coming?" she asked.

Terrwyn shook her head. "I don't run with that crowd, Milly. I'm going to stay here with my friends." She motioned to the boys, Draco, her brother, and Luci. "You're welcome to join us."

She hesitated for a moment, but habit won out. "Maybe another time. I don't want Pansy to be angry. And, you know, Daphne might get lost. And I so worry about her. She can be so daft, sometimes..." The excuses poured out.

"You don't have to make excuses, Millicent. Just go; but, remember, my offer stands and, in no way, are you bound to Pansy Parkinson. You can be friends with whoever you want to be."

Millicent nodded. "I'll think about it, Terrwyn." She glanced out the open doorway before smiling at Terrwyn. "Thanks." And then she was gone, her two-sizes-too-small duster flapping at her legs.

Quite suddenly, out of the silence, came Draco's laugh. Terrwyn whirled to look at him, as he slung his arm around her shoulders companionably. She didn't shudder. She briefly wondered why; his words cut her musings short. "Wow, Terrwyn, you're amazing!" Blaise and Theo were quick to agree.

She flushed. "Why is that?"

"You just got here and you've managed to rip apart the harem," Blaise explained. "You've got Pansy feeling threatened for the first time in her life and you've got Millicent Bulstrode thinking about leaving the group all together."

"And she's smiling!" Theo cut in, smirking.

Draco nodded. "I've always liked Millicent—a true Slytherin: cunning, intelligent, intensely loyal—pity that she always hid her beauty. But, I have to say, with that smile of hers, there's definitely hope." He squeezed her shoulders. "You're a good influence on Slytherin house, Teri. This is the most comfortable I've ever felt on the Express. How about you guys?" he queried. Blaise and Theo nodded.

Terrwyn shrugged out of Draco's embrace. "I did what comes naturally. Millicent is better than those two idiots. Honestly, I don't know how they ended up in Slytherin. Daphne's as air-headed as a hot-air balloon and Pansy's so full of herself she has no need for cunning or loyalty. She assumes everyone will follow her."

"What house do you think they _should _be in?" Draco asked, his wild curiousity piqued. She thought for a moment.

"Daphne's a Hufflepuff, most definitely."

"Her sister would have a cow!" Theo chortled.

"Yeah, Austeria would shit herself!" Blaise agreed.

Terrwyn tapped her chin. "As for Pansy, I think that Gryffindor is in order—she's easily wounded, terribly proud, and not-so-bright. She's also blatanly obvious about everything she does."

Draco smirked. "She could fawn over Potter instead of me."

Terrwyn felt a frown tug at her lips. "Ugh, Potter. He's disgusting—arrogant, whiny—utterly pathetic. I don't know why everyone likes him. And that Weasley! He's an absolute dolt—the bottom wrung in his family ladder. The other Weasleys may have a chance in normal society—but not him."

Draco looked at her with awe. "Very inspiring, Terrwyn; and what about Granger?" he asked, urging her to continue.

"She's better than the both of them. In my opinion, _she _should have been graced with pure blood. The world would be better off with her in Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Than we wouldn't have to worry about Potter or Weasley—they'd have no one to do their homework for them or cook up their plans or get them out of trouble. Everyone would know that they're useless—not just those of us with insight." She put up a finger. "You know what? I think the world would be better off even if Hermione stayed the way she is, but just never got stuck in gag-worhty Gryffindor."

Draco's eyes widened. "Granger's a Mudblood."

"I think the prejudice against Mudbloods, especially those with magical talent, is vastly overrated. Magic is magic. If you have it, then you're a wizard or a witch—if you don't, whether you're a pure-blood, mudblood, or a regular muggle then you should be removed from magical society."

They didn't comment on the prejudice comment. Draco merely replied with: "There would be no more need for Hufflepuff House."

"Or most of Gryffindor," Theo added.

"Or some of Slytherin," Blaise admitted. "Daphne would be out, so would Pansy, and some of the boys too, I'm afraid."

"The magical community would run more smoothly," Terrwyn added.

Draco nodded slowly. "No more war."

Terrwyn leaned into his ear. "No more death."

Terrwyn thought she saw a tear shimmer in his right eye. But it was gone quickly as he rubbed at them. "Yeah...no more death."

* * *

There's the renovated second chapter of "Incandescent Melody". I think I might change the title later. I'm not sure yet.

R&R


	3. Imperio

Chapter Three : Imperio

He couldn't stop staring at her as she made her way to the front of the room. The sorting hat winked at her as she practically floated up there. She was astoundingly graceful and poised—probably because, unlike the first years, she knew where she would end up. There was no question. All Eldergoth's who had ever come to Hogwarts had been placed in Slytherin—just like every Malfoy that attended Hogwarts had been placed in Slytherin. It was destiny.

"Eldergoth, Terrwyn," McGonnagal called out.

She stepped forward. Draco held his breath. She sat beneath the sorting hat. Draco twiddled his thumbs. The sorting hat called out: "Slytherin!" Draco let out a sigh of relief. And then she was next to him, cradling her head in her upturned hands, lazily, as if she didn't have a care in the world.

"I knew you'd be in Slytherin."

She blinked at him. "So did I; it kind of ruins the effect of that little hat when you know where you're going, doesn't it?"

He remembered his first year and shuddered. Nope; the hat had still freaked him out completely. He chose to lie. "Yeah, it really does."

She smiled. "Liar."

He flushed. "I am not."

"Draco, I can read the lie in your eyes. And, if I really wanted to, I could just read your mind. I'm a trained Legilimens and Occulmens." She bit her lip absentmindedly. "But I don't really feel like prying. And I don't usually do it to my friends. It seems rude to me."

He stifled his laughter. "Legilimens? Occulmens? _Now _who's the liar. I bet you the next thing you'll tell me is that you're an animagus and can do it anytime you want; and that you create your own spells and curses. _Puh_-lease, Terrwyn. You're not fooling me. I put up with liars all the time. And that's one load of bullshit."

She smirked. "All of those things you just said, I can do."

"Prove it."

"Which one do you want me to prove first? The animagus, of course, is rather difficult in this setting, considering I _am _unregistered and will _probably _be expelled for just attempting to change in here. But if you're calling me a liar, I'd be willing to risk it to prove my claims."

He matched her smirk. "Okay, we'll skip the animagus for now. How about you prove that you're a Legilimens. Tell me what I'm thinking."

She nodded slowly. "Okay."

There was suddenly a sharp, tearing sensation in his mind. He watched his own memories whirl past his inner vision and he tried to look away from Terrwyn's piercing gaze. He knew that eye contact was essential for a Legilimens. Eventually, he tore his gaze away from hers, well aware that he now knew every color in her eyes.

This was dwarfed to the fact that Terrwyn now knew everything about him—every childhood memory, every personal secret, ever piece of his dark, cold past, and every personal feeling he had ever had for any other human being, including Terrwyn herself. She knew him on a level that was unmatched by anyone else he knew, including his own parents. It scared him immensely.

"You were thinking that your mission is never going to be accomplished because you can't bring yourself to become what they want you to be." He gasped and his eyes filled with unstoppable tears. That was the one thing he hadn't wanted her to know. "Oh, and you were also thinking about snogging me senseless right here on this bench."

He flushed lightly, but was still very much concentrated on the other fact she had exposed. "Yeah, sure..."

He felt her hand on his thigh. "Draco, are you all right? I didn't mean to scare you. And I tried to stay out of the personal stuff. But you're so unguarded. I'm not used to it. It was overwhelming."

He ground his teeth together. "Great, I'm mentally exposed."

He watched her eyes fill with tears. She pulled her hand away. "I'm so sorry; I know that I'm a freak and that I shouldn't have pried. I should have just told you I was lying or something. I shouldn't have put you through this. I'm sorry." Then she scooted away, towards her brother who was glaring at the blond Slytherin who had just made the top of his 'shit list'.

Draco sighed darkly. "Terrwyn..."

She shook her head. "No, Draco, it's okay. You don't have to pretend that you don't care, that you can deal with it. I know you can't. It's why I don't have any friends. I'm used to it. Don't worry about it. I don't blame you."

His eyes filled with more tears. "But I really _don't _care. You just scared me. And I'm not unused to being scared; in fact, I'm quite used to it." He glanced around at the rest of the Slytherin table. They were absorbed in their food. He sighed and pressed on. "You want the truth? I'm _always _scared."

She scooted a little closer. "So am I. It's become part of my identity—the fear of belonging to someone I hate, of losing my independence. But I want to let you know, that no matter what this 'mission' is, I don't blame you and I'm not afraid of you. And I also want you to know that I'll never hurt you."

At this, Pansy's doe-eyed gaze swiveled to them. "Bitch!" She practically launched herself across the table, grabbing Terrwyn by her silver, silk scarf. Terrwyn gagged and choked, her hands flying to her neck. Salem tried to help, but he was trapped by the mass of Slytherins that leaned and pushed to watch the action. Draco, though, was unblocked. He grabbed onto Pansy's hand. But her grip on Terrwyn was fierce and seemingly unbreakable.

"Bitch, bitch, BITCH! You can't have him! I won't let you! You're a foreigner! I've a right to him...you _don't! _'I'll never hurt you'—no, you won't! Because I'll never let you get close enough to hurt him."

Terrwyn's lips were turning blue. The other table turned to stare at the malicious Slytherin princess and her foreign victim. But the teachers were occupied—_figures_, Draco mused—with the First Years and their Sorting. Suddenly, Terrwyn's eyes blazed with an inner fire. Her lips formed a strange shape and her gaze met Pansy's fiercely. "_Imperio_," she whispered, and Pansy fell back, her eyes wide and her limbs slack.

Terrwyn fell back as well, gasping for breath, as her hand rose with a raised pointer finger. "_You will never touch me again, Pansy Parkinson. And you will never use violence to win over any man. And you will no longer be controlling over the people who call you friend—your reign as 'princess' is over." _She rubbed at her neck with her free hand. "_I release you."_

Pansy's face regained their color and she blinked stupidly. "Why are you all staring at me like that?"

A ghost of a smile flitted over Terrwyn's lips before she fainted. Luckily, Draco dove forward to catch her. He couldn't speak. He had just witnessed one of the Unforgivables—performed, almost naturally, by a student—a SIXTH year. But the more disconcerting thing was that she had done good with that very same Unforgivable.

"Salem," he called out, "Help me take her to the Infirmary."

Salem nodded and stood, coming to take Terrwyn into his arms. Draco let him as he picked up her knapsack, her wand, and her scarf from under the bench. Then he he followed the two Eldergoths out of the Great Hall and into the halls, making their way to Poppy Pomfrey's Infirmary.

* * *

"It's too early for this, Mr. Malfoy. What happened to her?"

Draco tried to explain as best as he could, while successfully eliminating the fact that Terrwyn had used the Imperius curse. As far as he could tell, he was the only one that had seen those words form on her lips. And if he wasn't, he'd make sure he was the only that remembered by the end of the day.

"Pansy Parkinson tried to strangle her with her own scarf and, Pansy's grip was really tight, I couldn't pull her off. And by the time Pansy fell back, Terrwyn was already blue. When we got the scarf off, she just fainted. She looks really bad, Madame Pomfrey," Salem clarified, as best he could.

"I can see that, Mr. Eldergoth." She glanced at her watch. "I do believe you have Prefect duties currently, Mr. Eldergoth." Salem cursed under his breath. Pomfrey pretended not to notice. "Please hurry along; I'm certain one male will suffice while I try to bring Ms. Eldergoth back to consciousness."

Salem looked at Draco with a threat in his eyes. "Don't hurt my sister," he warned, as he practically ran out of the Infirmary. Immediately, Draco was at Madame Pomfrey's side, helping her in any way he could and, constantly, glancing at Terrwyn's prone, blue-lipped form.

Suddenly, Terrwyn sputtered and coughed, writhing on the Infirmary bed, and cried out: "Help me! Oh God, help me! He's in my head. I can't get him out!" She scratched at her face madly, causing welts and scratches to form everywhere, some welling up with blood. "Get him _out_! I can't...I'm not strong enough. Oh God, _help me!_" Her hands flung out and grabbed a hold of Draco's collar. The blond boy leaned forward, tugged by her amazingly strong grip, while Madame Pomfrey tried to find a sedative to use on the poor girl.

"Draco, you have to help me. Only you can know. _He's_ in my head. He's pushing, he's prying, he's trying to make me forget—he doesn't like you with me. He likes me...likes to keep me all to himself. Don't leave me; he can't get rid of you. He can't get rid of me. He likes me, he needs me, he _wants_ me..." She was gasping, tears falling down her face like sparkling waterfalls.

He felt himself crying too. He knew who she was talking about. He _knew _who was in her head. And he wanted so desperately to help her. "Hold on, Terrwyn, we'll get him out. I'll save you, I promise."

She sobbed, her fingers falling from his collar. Immediately, he knew what he had to do. He climbed onto the bed, pulled her into his arms and held on tight as she writhed, scratched and screamed. "They promised him, but there was a loophole. Oh God, he doesn't like it. He doesn't like how they tricked him. He's gonna kill Daddy; I can see it. But I can't stop it. Mama's all sad now; she blames herself. Poor, poor, mama, I'm so sorry."

Slowly, her writhing ceased and she relaxed in his arms as she sobbed, suddenly so helpless. "Draco," she breathed, "He makes me watch. He makes me watch them die. And it's all my fault."

After a moment, Pomfrey was at the side of Terrwyn's bed again. But, upon seeing the girl nearly asleep in his arms, she let a tear slide down her face. "How did you do it, Mr. Malfoy? Even I didn't know what to do. Even _I _was confused. And I've been doing this for forty years."

Draco put his head on top of Terrwyn's ebony curls. "I know what she's feeling and, because of that, my heart knew what to do. And, before you ask, I hardly know her. I don't know what the particulars are, or how she came to be so afraid. All I know is that I know that fear. And it's devastating."

Pomfrey nodded. "I won't question any further; but Dumbledore and Professor McGonnagal will most likely like to speak with the both of you when she recovers."

Draco's eyes widened. "Why?"

"Because she was talking about someone in her head, Mr. Malfoy; and with the situation with Voldemort right now, it's policy. And, besides that, she was strangled in the middle of the Great Hall by a fellow student. That calls for Headmaster intervention as well, I'm afraid. She may have to be placed in another House."

Draco's eyes widened. "You can't do that. Her brother's in Slytherin—he's a prefect! It's not like he can leave. And _I'm _in Slytherin—can't go anywhere else. And you've seen it, you've _witnessed _it. I'm the only one that understands her. You can't do that to her. You just _can't._"

"I have no intention of changing Miss Eldergoth's House, Mr. Malfoy," a sugary voice cut in, and Draco's head turned to glare at the incomer. "Ah, I see you're not too happy to see me. That's to be expected. Especially after what Poppy must have told you about the circumstances."

Draco scoffed at the Headmaster. "You're mental if you think I'm going to let you take her away from Slytherin. It's the only place where she'll be safe."

Dumbledore chuckled. "I assure you, Mr. Malfoy, that if I truly wanted to remove Terrwyn from Slytherin, that you would be powerless to stop me."

"That makes me really want to trust you."

Dumbledore made his way to the bed. "Why do you care so much? You just recently met, Miss Eldergoth, did you not?"

Draco bristled. "We understand each other. And, unlike some people, that feeling doesn't come often to Slytherins—especially Malfoys. And we trust each other, which even more of a stranger occurrence."

"I wouldn't dream of taking that away from the two of you. It would be cruel and very foolish on my part. No, in fact, your connection is exactly what we need." He put his hand on Draco's shoulder. "We need to speak in private."

"We are in private. It's not like Terrwyn can hear you. She's out cold."

"I assure Draco, that it's not Terrwyn I'm worried about." He tapped his head. "It's who's in here that frightens me."

Draco's eyes widened. "Oh." It was all he could say.

* * *

"You're saying that Voldemort is in her _head_?" Draco asked, incredulously, running a hand through his tousled, in-need-of-a-haircut, blond tresses.

"Exactly. But we don't know why," Dumbledore agreed.

"And you think that I can help her fight him."

"Exactly. But we don't know how," Dumbledore clarified.

"And you think that, by helping her, I can help myself."

"Exactly. That's just good karma."

Draco sighed. "That doesn't make any sense."

Dumbledore popped a lemon drop into his wrinkled, I-smile-too-much, mouth and grinned wolfishly at Draco. "It does to me."

"You act like that's all that matters."

"Sometimes, Draco, it is. I have inklings sometimes. This is one of them."

Draco scowled. "I'm not Potter; I don't risk my neck according to your bloody inklings. And I most certainly won't risk somebody _else's_ neck according to your inklings. I don't have the luxury of a billion disposable friends."

Dumbledore's eyes darkened. "I hope you're not saying that Harry doesn't care about his friends—that he thinks they're dispensable."

"That's exactly what I'm saying. Cedric Diggory got killed because of him."

Dumbledore rose from his chair angrily. "That was a tragic accident!"

"Bull_shit!_ Harry Bloody James Fucking Potter got him _KILLED!_"

Dumbledore backhanded him. "If you weren't important and extremely talented, I'd expel you right now, Draco Malfoy. As it is, you _are _important and _are_ extremely talented. So I won't bother expelling you. It would be worse for me in the long run."

Draco fumed silently as Dumbledore pressed on. "Terrwyn Eldergoth has the potential to become a great asset to the Light Side in this War. But, if Voldemort gets a hold of her, she could also become the end of us."

Draco shook his head violently. "I'm _not _going to spy on her."

"Not spying, Draco; I want you to convert her."

"That'd be stupid. Voldemort would know that I'm not on his side. He'd kill me. He gave me a bloody mission, Dumbledore, that he expects me to carry out. I don't even know how I'm going to get out of _that _one."

"I already have it taken care of. Snape will inform you later this year."

"Okay, then, but it doesn't fix the fact that Terrwyn is infested with Voldemort's influence. He'll be able to see everything I do."

Dumbledore sighed. "You have a good point."

"I know; that's why I have such a big brain."

"Insulting me will get you nowhere."

Draco grinned. "But it's oh-so-funny, Bumblebee."

"Don't call me that."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Killjoy."

"Ferret."

Draco winced. "That's a low-blow. But, seriously, what do you want me to do?"

"Find out why he's in her head to begin with. Figure out if there's a way to get him out. If there is, pursue that route if possible."

"If she knew how to get him out, wouldn't she have done it already?"

"Maybe she can't do it by herself. Most of the time, magical curses need more than one person to break them. I'd assume that it's a curse that she suffers through."

"If it's not?"

"Then she's a lost cause, we eliminate and we start over."

"Hell no; like I said, I'm not Potter. I don't sit back and watch my friends die. I try and stop it. You are _not _going to hurt her."

"You just met her, Draco."

"Dammit, Dumbledore, I _told _you! We _understand_ each other."

Dumbledore was somber. "If it comes to that, and you interfere, you will be eliminated as well, Draco; and it will be a shame to take such a brilliant mind away from the world. Please reconsider your loyalties."

"I'm with you until you hurt someone important. When that happens, you're no better than that serpentine slime-ball."

Dumbledore nodded. "I see, Draco; you may return to Miss Eldergoth now. Severus will contact you with the first stage of our plan as soon as possible."

Draco nodded, already leaving Pomfrey's office. "Dumbledore," he added, as he was walking out the door, "I meant what I said. My loyalties lie with those I care about. And that will _never _change."

* * *

There it is! Chapter three! The story is officially off of hiatus! Yay me!

R&R


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